Do come in

Mind your step over the carcasses

and please don’t dwell on these stiff remains,

I am drawing out the hemlock

before I knit confessions

with the bones.

Yes, it’s hard to keep the place tidy 

with so many tiny deaths

that are daily pregnant in my mind.

Do sit down, yes, there’s room 

if you all move up a bit,

please pay no attention to all the lovers 

that I have welcomed between my hospitable thighs;

most were undeserving,

and now just add to the clutter.

To tell you the truth, to be serious

for a moment - this is how I have been bare -

the twist of hair that unfurls and falls

across the white of my back,

reflected in a mirror, which lacking judgement,

showed me the burning empty of the act.

No need of undressing from names

that I might robe myself in

because it’s simpler to unveil only my skin;

this kind of nakedness is an intimacy, isn’t it,

that, at least, conceals the soul.

I have kept warm on the coal of these thoughts,

I fire the furnace to throw on soft-boiled words -

watery enough to not even raise a hiss,

I throw on any promise pledged to me - 

none bright enough to light the dark.

These are all the ephemeral things

that I reach for, but never grasp.

The twigs that I rub together

hoping for some spark.

Love that I thought was given, or craved,

it was not really given, I yearned, pleaded for it, 

but anyway, no more than a loan.

And thank you, your offer of religion is kind,

but as you can see here now, 

I have one of my own.

Image from pixabay.